Powhiri

I went to a symposium today, at the University of Auckland. Good speakers and lots of statistics, lanyards and coffee, a nice lunch. It reminded me a bit of the conferences I used to organise for financial services professionals in the late nineties (albeit with a bit less wine - it blows my mind a bit that we used to allocate half a bottle of wine per head to our delegates at lunchtime; the instructions to the waiting staff were simply 'just keep topping them up'. This meant the session after lunch truly was the graveyard shift, and on more than one occasion we were forced to schedule the long-suffering Robin Ellison there to shake people from their stupor.)

Our conferences used to typically open with a light introduction, a bit of scene-setting from the Chairman, and then straight into the first speaker. And all of that happened yesterday, too; but what happened first was rather magical. I experienced my first powhiri.

The powhiri is a Maori ceremonial greeting whereby the local tribespeople welcome visitors. Two of the tribe sat near the lectern; an older man and an older woman – the chap, with creamy white hair combed back, was dressed very smartly in a navy suit with the buttons done up, like an old soldier. And from behind us came the speakers, lead down the steps of the raked theatre by another older Maori lady – this one singing, in minor tones which to me sounded almost funereal. As she paused the lady at the front sang a response to her, and they continued exchanging lines of verse until the approaching group had taken their seats at the front.

The chap got up and said something to the room, and then the whole party stood up and engaged in a call-response song which some of the audience also joined in. This was also sung in quite haunting minor tones, a really poignant melody. It was odd to say the least to see some of the conference speakers, academics of European descent, the men dressed badly, standing there and belting out a tune in Maori.

This finished and then the Chairman said something in Maori to the old chap, and then they all walked forward and exchanged rubbed noses with each other. This done, the old chap said what sounded like a prayer, everyone said what sounded like a Maori ‘amen’, the couple and the lady left – and then the conference started.

I guess most of the audience would have seen this innumerable times but for me it was electrifying.